


Bright Eyes

by orphan_account



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blood Kink, Breeding Kink, CharsFeralRedScout - character, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Feral behaviour, Grooming, Gun Kink, Hunting, Light BDSM, M/M, Piss Marking, ProperNiceThatsFeralRedSniper - character - Freeform, Scent Marking, Watersports, basically sniper has no self control and scout needs to stop looking fuckable, marking kink, of course that's a tag oh my god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-02 13:22:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5249684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last person Sniper had expected to cross paths with in the middle of a hunting trip, was a Scout. Especially a one with the jaws of a lion and feral eyes that struck terror into the hearts of the BLU team.</p><p>Still, this wouldn't be the first time he'd tied a Scout up - and with those bright eyes staring up at him, pupils blown wide and drool dripping down his chin - he knew it wouldn't be the last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Propernicethat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Propernicethat/gifts).



> Oooookay so forewarning this is all entirely written on my iPad, so if there are any glaring mistakes I somehow missed because I'm dumb, don't be afraid to let me know, yeah?
> 
> Firstly, this is going to be in two parts, the second part shouldn't be too far behind this, I've just spent most of the day editing this part is all.
> 
> Secondly, this is actually my first published piece with my Scout OC getting into the limelight. I'm actually... Extremely worried about posting this, not because I think it's bad (jk of course I do), but more because I've copped some flak on my blog about him and he's my stupid cursed child and I love him. So this is also a kind of 'fuck you' to those people.
> 
> Thirdly, Proper; you know I love your writing, and I can only hope I did your Sniper justice. I promise I'll patch him up before I return him lmao.
> 
> My Tumblr: http://charspurpletooran.tumblr.com/

Sniper didn't mind the frequent rain that fell at Sawmill, it was much more appreciated than the constant stifling heat of the badlands, anyway. Then there was the fact that Engineer seemed more pliant in letting him closer after he came in from the rain; he'd paw at the locked workshop door with grime-covered hands at some ungodly hour of the morning, much like little Rosie had - and the Engineer would let him in with a chuckle and a shake of his head at his sopping wet form. Apparently it was something about the rain making him smell better. Sniper wasn't sure how he felt about losing the majority of his easily distinguished scent, but if his wife wasn't going to object to the mud he often tracked through the workshop and over to his makeshift nest, nor try to coax him into a hot bubble bath (no amount of yellow rubber duckies could distract him from the soap suds), he supposed he could be convinced to spend a little more time out in the rain.

If it made his wife more pliant to let him indoors of a night, it made Sniper happy just to be around the Engineer.

So spend more time out in the rain, he did. The forests that surrounded Sawmill were the perfect excuse for him to stay outdoors in the chilling downpour for as long as he dared - he was by no means an idiot, and learned the hard way not to let himself get sick (lest Engineer shove him in a piping hot bath with a few scolding words) but often the thrill of the hunt got the better of him, and before he knew it hours had passed by with him waiting patiently by his rifle, a spool of rope on his thigh and water having long since soaked his clothes.

He wondered how pleased his wife would be, if he brought in the buck he'd been tracking as a surprise for him.

Giddiness coiled in the man's gut at the mere thought; at the praise and feeling of fingers carding through his grimy, matted hair as his wife said just how proud he was of the kill. Sniper had never realised how good it felt to have his head scratched, and it was even better when his wife was curled up with him in the large nest he'd expanded in the man's workshop.

Now that he thought of it, it was going to be quite troublesome to fit a rack of velvety antlers in there with all his other little trophies.

Just as he pondered over the antler-predicament, the trees rustled and into the clearing sprang - not the buck he'd being shadowing - but a doe and her still-spotted fawn. Gnawing on his bottom lip despondently, Sniper felt more than a little disappointed at his catch; after hours spent tracking and lying in wait patiently, it wasn't the animal he wanted to bring back to Engineer. It wasn't the impressive buck with the equally impressive rack of antlers that he'd seen on the edge of his scope many days ago during a match. But he supposed the man would still appreciate the meat both deer and fawn could provide. He liked feeding his wife, just as much as he liked eating the food his wife made for him.

He always did make sure it would be easy on his teeth, and the Australian readily appreciated it.

Sniper lined up the shot and slid the bolt of his rifle forward with a well oiled click.

And damn near jumped out his skin in fright.

The rain masked already muted footfalls, and with his finger curled around the trigger, Sniper's shot missed by miles as a muddied blur of red exploded from in between pine needles with what could best be described as a roar, the sound startling the feral man enough to leave him clutching his rifle to his chest in surprise. Wide red eyes stared down at the agile person springing after the fleeing deer, watching with quiet fascination as whoever it was took down the doe with surprising strength for such a wiry looking frame.

Then the Australian's instinct kicked in, just as the fawn bleated in alarm and began to dart off in the opposite direction.

It didn't even make it five feet, before a rifle shot split the air with a crack like thunder.

Sliding the bolt of his rifle backwards, Sniper expelled the bullet casing and flicked his eyes from the shot-down fawn to the tackled deer.

And his hackles shot up as he realised he too, was being watched.

Noxious, green-ringed eyes peered up at him from beneath what looked like a cheetah's head, the jaws of the young man - who he now recognised as one of RED's AWOL Scouts - clamped around the doe's throat in a suffocating bite he knew was often deployed by the big cats that roamed the world. The Scout growled as he moved to stand, bright visuals narrowing and - to the Sniper's surprise - the ears on top of the cap flicking backward much like an angry feline.

And then it clicked.

He knew of this person; and Sniper allowed himself a wry smile at the rare circumstance that brought both of the feral's together, outside a firefight.

This was the Scout, that he'd heard Soldier had inadvertently cursed. This was the person he'd seen fleeting glimpses of, many times on the battlefield; the young man with eyes like a predator and agility that put the others of his class to shame.

The marksman straightened up slowly - not wanting to risk provoking the Scout into abandoning his kill to attack - and nodded over to the shot fawn. Green eyes followed the movement and Sniper watched in fascination as the ears swivelled in ascent, the cheetah head's equally green visuals blinking slowly, and straying to the side to glance at the fawn.

He was still overly cautious as he skidded down into the clearing, making sure to reload his rifle just in case and drawing his kukri to bat stubborn pine needles out of the way. The Australian didn't know what he expected, but the fawn was a tiny little thing with barely any meat on it, and what was there, was so lean Sniper figured the most he'd get out of this small animal would be a broth and some soft bones for whatever wolves lurked about. The bushman blinked; now there's an idea, maybe he could try for a nice looking wolf for his wife next time. He was sure he'd love a soft pelt to snuggle into.

The sounds of the struggling doe brought Sniper's attention back to the present and red eyes strayed over to the Scout, watching a clawed hand come down to pin flailing front legs with a frustrated growl and a readjusted bite.

The Australian wasn't one for sharing, and didn't take too kindly to the runner raining in on his parade - cursed or not. That doe was for his wife, regardless of who got the killing blow. Though, perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone and teach the boy a lesson.

With the dead fawn easily slung over his shoulder, Sniper edged his way closer to the Scout, only coming to a stop when slitted green slid to the side and pinned him to the spot with a growl of warning. The marksman licked at cracked lips, and watched the eyes atop the cheetah's head blink closed. That thing on his head was unnerving, and the runner was still staring at him, furred ears flicking unsurely. If Sniper was honest, he wasn't sure which set of eyes to focus on.

He coughed into a fist.

"S'a lotta meat on that" he said eventually, red eyes deciding instead to watch the last dredges of life leave the deer in weak kicks and twitches. The Scout grunted an agreement, his jaws still stubbornly clamped around the animal's neck like a vice, blood marring the majority of his lower face. A brief thought crossed the marksman's mind - what kind of teeth, and jaw strength did this Scout possess to be able to choke the life out of a deer in the first place?

Sniper clicked his tongue thoughtfully and boldly decided to step toward the Scout, ignoring flared nostrils and the deep, rumbling growls shot his way.

"D'ya know what happens most of the time when a cheetah makes a kill?" Sniper questioned instead, deciding to dump the fawn onto the muddy ground next to the doe for the time being, twirling his kukri around to slap the flat of the blade across his hand. Scout's ears pinned back at the loud noise and he finally let go of the dead deer, flashing such imposing canines as he disengaged, that they would have made any ordinary man flee in terror.

Sniper was no ordinary man.

"No..." The Scout admitted quietly, his voice hoarse from disuse and licking at the coppery blood on his lips.

"Well most of the time they gotta abandon it, right? Because after they've taken their prey down, they're so bloody exhausted from the sprint, that they're defenceless if somethin' nastier comes along" By now, green eyes had narrowed suspiciously, and the Scout had reared himself upward into a more defensive position. An ear flicked irately.

"And?" he questioned, already crouching over the doe in a protective manner. Sniper flashed him a grin full of rotted teeth.

"And" the Australian crooned "if they don't high tail it out of there, bigger and badder predators can come in on the scene and kill 'em for it if they so pleased"

Sniper lunged and the Scout met him in the middle in a flurry of metal, teeth and claws. The marksman swung the flat of his blade smack-bang into the Scout's open jaws, making the runner gag at the force behind it and scrabble violently as he was shoved back into the mud and pinned against the deer. Teeth gnawed on the blade and claws struck true for a brief moment, the sharp keratin slashing three shallow lines across the Sniper's face and giving the Scout the brief distraction he needed to try to buck the man off of him.

Only he didn't anticipate the Australian to be as heavy as he was, and only succeeded in baiting a smouldering look from the bushman, those red eyes roiling a foreign heat in the runners gut and making him hesitate. And that hesitation was all Sniper needed to snatch the runner's wrists in his free hand, pinning them to the deer's ribcage with a pleased hum and a rock of his hips. Scout huffed with nostrils flared angrily, feeling sticky drool drip out of the corners of his mouth to mingle with animal blood and falling rain.

"Feisty little bugger ain't ya?" Sniper murmured, tilting his kukri in the Scout's jaws and marvelling at the sharp teeth on display - both upper and lower canines had elongated into a sharp-toothed trap, the Scout's incisors that flanked his two comically out of place buckteeth, equally as sharp and roughly half the length. His eyes were quite the marvel too - where he had bloodshot sclera and ruby-red visuals, the whites of the runner's eyes were an off yellow and the ringed green irises seemed to glow in the dim forest. Sniper hummed appreciatively and the Scout snarled up at the marksman, spittle and drool flying out of his mouth in his simmering anger. The Australian quickly silenced him when he ducked down and licked a stripe across the runner's temple.

"I'm gonna make a fine necklace outta those teeth of yours someday" he all but crooned into his skin, grinning as he fumbled with the Scout's belt and relishing in the way he hissed in alarm and bucked furiously. Sniper eventually slipped the leather from between loops and wrapped it around the Scout's head, threading the end through the buckle and slipping it down onto the kukri.

Green eyes seethed up at him and he swiftly pulled the blade from his mouth and replaced it with tough leather, drawing it tight and pressing it behind sharp canines with a smug smile. That solved that. The Scout glared up at him furiously and gnawed on the belt with a low growl at the dirty fingers prodding his teeth. It was a pity Sniper didn't have his pliers with him, but it's not like he had expected to run into such a beastie with a mouth full of wonderful teeth either.

Hell, he was fairly sure this Scout was around base even less than he was. And that was saying something.

With nimble fingers, Sniper grabbed the spool of rope initially intended for the buck he'd been tracking, and took to binding the Scout's wrists together now that he had both hands at his disposal. Pleased with his handiwork, the marksman yanked the Scout up off the deer and held his wrists high, bringing the runner up to eye level and and delighting in the way his bare feet were barely able to reach the mud below.

With eyes the colour of the deer blood marring the Scout's face, and a crooked grin that spoke miles of his plans for the young man; Sniper dropped him into the mud again, a boot pressing into his back and forcing the runner to hunch over the deer with a muffled growl. He trailed that filthy boot down the Scout's back, past his hitched up shirt and down to his slipping pants, and with a swift kick to his behind, sent the runner sprawling over the dead animal with a bark of surprise. Unable to properly break his fall with his hands bound, Scout was helpless to stop the mud that splattered across his face, his position leaving him woefully exposed with his ass presented like some sort of bitch in heat.

Scout roared through the makeshift gag and shot a fiery glare over his shoulder, well prepared to rip this man's throat out with his teeth the second he got the chance.

Only instead of seeing the Sniper, he found himself staring down the barrel of a rifle, and he despised the way that made the heat in his gut flicker into a flame. The Australian shifted the stock back against his shoulder, a finger curling around the trigger guard and that boot slipping between the runner's thighs, the toe ghosting over his clothed cock.

Sniper decided he liked the look on his face at that moment, especially the part where once furious-slitted eyes expanded into nothing but round dark pupils ringed with green.

He slid the bolt back and popped the bullet out into his hand, deftly twirling it between fingers before sliding it back in and snapping the bolt forward. Better the Scout actually knew he meant business.

"You lay right back down the way I put ya mate, or I can't promise ya I'll keep me finger off this trigger" and with the warning of a swift trip to respawn - was he still even in range right now? - the last remnants of Scout's foul temper snuffed out in the now drizzling rain. Scout obediently flopped back over the carcass, jolting at the freezing touch of the rifle's barrel against his exposed back.

"Bloody beautiful that is..." the Sniper murmured, trailing the metal down his spine and flicking the loose material of his pants down to pool around the runners knees. The Australian was extremely pleased at the lack of underwear, even moreso when Scout yelped in surprise, jumping at the chilling press of the rifle's barrel sliding against his half-hard cock, the smoothed off end scraping deliciously back against the underside and leaving the runner snapping his hips forward into ruddy brown fur with a keening noise muffled by the belt.

Sniper's eyes hooded appreciatively at the view; it wasn't often he had someone at his mercy, who wasn't in hysterics by now. Seeing the Scout react so positively to the cold barrel of his gun was oddly mesmerising in itself - scarred hips rocked down against his rifle for every subtle move he made, the runner's muddy face pressed into the deer's fur and drool dripping down his chin and to the ground. The Australian took a deep breath, and tried to steady his pounding heart - it was hard enough to piss with an erection, let alone with such a delightful sight before him.

The sound of a zipper being pulled down wasn't entirely unexpected, but the delayed warmth, and acrid smell of urine splashing from his shoulders all the way down his back was enough to make the runner jolt a second time; it was such a stark contrast to the cold rain and so inherently  _Sniper_ , that the Scout found himself writhing as more splashed down his legs and between his thighs, warming the steady barrel of the rifle pressed up against his flush erection.

"Been holdin' that all day y'know" Sniper murmured, squeezing the base of his cock and letting out a shuddering breath as the yellow stream cut off "was sittin' up on that hill for hours waiting for this one buck, but y'know mate... I think I bagged somethin' much better" he loosened his grip and relaxed again, this time aiming for the back of the Scout's head, grinning at the muffled whine and the way he arched up into the sour-smelling stream, cheetah ears flicking back in an effort to keep the liquid out.

"My therapist says I should label things I own, so that people don't mistakenly take 'em from me" the Sniper confessed, watching with hooded eyes as the yellow stream soaked into the Scout's Flak Jack and the red shirt beneath "s'a good system ain't it? You like gettin' pissed on and marked as mine, don't ya mate? You like knowin' that everyone's gonna smell me on you, and know exactly who you belong to. Don't you?"

The Scout keened, and Sniper growled with narrowed eyes.

With a not-so-gentle upward smack to the runner's cock with his rifle, the Scout barked out a 'yes!' behind the belt, nodding furiously and grinding down against the gun with such a feral sounding snarl that it made the Australian grin.

"Good boy" he crooned, shaking the last fat drops out onto the Scout's exposed skin and leaning down to pet the piss-soaked fur of the runner's cap. He swore he could hear him purring. Eyeing the black leather that was still tightly buckled around his head, Sniper snatched the excess and yanked the runner's head back harshly as he straightened up.

He pulled the Scout up as far up as he could, forcing the runner to bow beautifully as the barrel of his gun moved up to press against his tailbone instead. Sniper yanked a little more forcefully, and felt his own cock twitch at the gagging hiss the other feral let out. Blown-wide pupils dared to glance over his shoulder and the Australian dropped his rifle in favour of snatching his jaw, forcing the runner to lock eyes with him.

And with words like rolling thunder, Sniper laughed.

"I'm gonna make a fine wife outta you, mate"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look it's an angry cat scoot: http://charspurpletooran.tumblr.com/post/133647557977/im-a-bit-confused-by-ur-wording-in-ur-fic-with
> 
> Also sorry this took longer than anticipated, I'm very easily distracted \o/
> 
> My Tumblr: http://charspurpletooran.tumblr.com

Sniper held the Scout's head in place and leaned into him, lips curling back over rotted teeth and tongue lapping at the corner of his mouth, cleaning away the sticky strands of drool and mud that dripped from the spit-shiny belt between powerful jaws. It was subtle beneath the muck and the few stray drops of piss that must have dripped down into his face, but the coppery tang of watered down blood was still there, and it sent a trill of excitement up the bushman's spine. Sniper could feel the way Scout seemed to relax into him, unnaturally green eyes softening under surprisingly gentle licks, and the Australian let loose a possessive growl at the mere thought of another person seeing his soon-to-be-wife the way he was now.

And what a delightful sight he was; the mud-streaked skin of his face was flushed a pretty pink, and what little animal blood that remained, stained his teeth and mixed with the spittle dripping from his jaws. His pants had long since become ruined in the muck at their feet, and the marksman readily appreciated having such tantalising skin bare for him to see - he let go of the belt, squeezing the runner's jaw in a silent threat and instead moved his hand down to press experimentally on the Scout's exposed hip.

Sniper whined in the back of his throat; this wife wasn't as soft as the Engineer, well at least not yet.

The marksman licked a trail along Scout's cheek and the runner made an unsure noise in the back of his throat - the Sniper was grooming him with a surprising delicacy compared to the steel-like grip that held his head in place, and he wasn't too sure how he was supposed to react towards the sudden gentleness. None the less, green eyes fluttered shut as that flat tongue turned to chapped lips, a whisper of a whine tickling up his throat as lips turned to nipping teeth. The runner felt more than saw, the jagged, rotted teeth of the Australian biting at his jaw, his foul breath fanning across his skin as he yanked the cheetah pelt out from beneath the restricting belt with a growl.

And then pain exploded from the Scout's neck, and his eyes shot wide open.

Dark pupils shrunk into small round pinpricks and he snapped his head back onto Sniper's shoulder; the runner's pained howl was muted to his ears compared to the din of possessive snarling coming from the Australian ravaging smooth skin. He wasn't sure whether the sticky warmth on his shoulder was blood or drool, but given the way Sniper lapped greedily at split skin, he was willing to bet it was the former. Scout cried out from behind the belt, his eyes watering as those jagged teeth came down again and again, gnawing on the flesh and marking him aggressively.

But Sniper didn't stop there, no.

With a smack of his lips and a the smell of fresh blood in the air, the Australian booted the back of the runner's knees, sending the disoriented Scout sprawling forward over the deer again. He was more prepared this time around, and managed to brace himself just in the nick of time, only receiving minimal splash back up his chest through the bounce of the deer's ribcage; and though his mind was hazy with pain, lust and all sorts of inappropriate thoughts about the Australian behind him, Scout flexed his jaw experimentally, pleased with the small slip the belt gave through his efforts.

That was until boots splashed through wet earth behind him and the hot, heavy weight of the Sniper pressed flush down onto his back, mounting him like he was some sort of animal to be bred - and Scout would rather die than admit aloud, that the mere thought of being treated as such made his entire body feel like fire incarnate. Sniper was no idiot though, and with a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat, he tangled his fingers in the piss-soaked cheetah pelt and forced the side of Scout's face down into the mud, his chapped lips mouthing at oozing bites marks.

"Did you know lions can mate up to fourty odd times a day?" He murmured into split skin, lapping at the sweet mixture of sweat, rain and blood that snaked down his neck "their wives'll present themselves like you are right now, ass in the air and just waiting to be fucked and filled. And the dominant males? Ahh they love it" he crooned, punctuating his words with nips, sucks and bites across the runner's exposed neck. Scout whined into the frustratingly restricting belt, a fire roiling in his veins and his cock jumping at the marksman's smokey promise-laden voice, hips rocking back greedily against the hard flesh slipping between cheeks in lazy, searching thrusts.

"Do ya know why they fuck their wives so much?" Sniper breathed into his exposed ear, biting down none-to-gently on the lobe and rolling the tender flesh between jagged teeth. The runner hissed out a 'no', flashing more of his neck to the marksman in a poor effort to draw teeth away from sensitive ears, his own gnawing on the tight-drawn leather.

"Because they want the greedy whores to carry for em" he grit out between sloppy thrusts, cracked lips mouthing over flushed skin with the threat of teeth not far behind "they want to watch em grow nice n fat, and know that they made em like that. They wanna breed em, like the bitches they are" and with a final snap of his hips and low groan, Sniper finally hit home and pushed his filthy cock into the runner. Scout howled out behind the makeshift gag, breaking free from under the hand that held him face down in the mud; everything hurt, pain pulsed from his neck and lanced up his backside, his head was pounding and it became increasingly difficult to see through the tears that welled up in his eyes.

Sniper grinned at the fight his new wife had in him; his legs kicked through the muck and he thrashed back against him, the marksman delighting in the way he arched his back up against his chest as he stubbornly pushed his cock into the runner's tight heat. Scout shot him a fiery glare over his shoulder, the effect lessened somewhat by the tears tracking down his cheeks. Sniper leaned forward and lapped at the salty liquid, snapping his hips flush against the runner's ass and murmuring into the Scout's ear, grinning at the telling way he trembled at his words.

"You're gonna get nice and fat for me, wife"

Sniper didn't even give the Scout the chance to adjust to the painfully unprepared intrusion, and went about setting a brutal pace that rocked the runner further down into the mud. He paid no mind to the throaty growls and muffled whimpers of pain from below, too absorbed in the slide of his cock railing into the Scout, and the warmth of quivering muscle around him. Drool pooled in Sniper's mouth and it dripped from his chin with every ragged breath he took, splattering down onto the oozing bite marks he'd left upon the feisty runner. Upon his new wife.

Red eyes branded a trail along the Scout's neck, snaking across every bloody bite, every purpling bruise and eventually came to a halt at the pelt that had fallen in the way again. The Australian bared his teeth down at the Scout, snarling like an animal and snatching the belt buckle with one hand, yanking the runner's head to the side to expose more of the wonderfully bloody marks he'd laid upon him.

Scout yowled angrily behind the belt, yanking against the hand that pulled his head to the side and forced it to stay at an awkward angle. It was uncomfortable, and with the scorching pain from his backside, the runner was having none of it. Though Sniper didn't really see it that way, and stalled inside him with a frustrated growl. He let go of the belt briefly - much to the Scout's relief - and instead drew a startled cry from the green-eyed feral as knuckles cracked across his cheek, snapping his face square down into the mud and leaving the runner's head spinning. Sniper's fingers dug into the piss-soaked fur as he yanked Scout's head back, putting the runner's throat on display while he gasped through the sudden pain.

"Whores like you don't fight back" 

Scout mouthed at the dirty leather belt, and Sniper realised a second too late that it had come loose with the way he'd grabbed the buckle. Black leather slipped from between aching jaws, and vindictive green eyes peered back at him with lips curled over teeth in a snarl. Sniper snarled right back at him and tightened his fingers in short fur, every muscle in his body coiling like a spring at the threat of snapping teeth.

But they never came.

Instead, Scout threw his weight backwards - hissing at the slick slide of the Australian's cock being wrenched from him - and turned with vicious speed, starling the marksman with how quickly he put him on his back, and how easily he'd slipped out from under his grip. Glowing green eyes stared down at him from behind a muddy face, the leather belt looped around his neck like some sort of taunting collar; and though his hands were still bound - and the bushman was well aware he could throw him off if he wanted - there was still the threat of those large teeth hovering inches above his face.

He didn't like the idea of finding out how strong those jaws were through personal experience.

But then Scout's mouth curved into a feline grin and he shifted his ass back onto the Australian's crotch, pleased in the way his breath hitched and his hips bucked upwards searchingly. With elbows either side of the bushman's face, and his bound wrists above his head, the runner dipped down to lick at the oozing scratch marks he'd left on the Australian's cheek, mirroring the gentle grooming the Sniper had given him earlier. Sniper swallowed nervously, red eyes staring dumbstruck up into hooded green - the worst part about a wild animal, was you could never tell what they were thinking.

But then Scout bit down on his bottom lip with his prominent buckteeth, and failed to reign in the near taunting smile that stretched across his face.

"What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"

Scout rocked back down against him, the tight velvety warmth engulfing the Sniper's cock enough to make the Australian's eyes snap wide, his mouth dropping open in a soundless moan. Lips mouthed at the marksman's ear, and Scout rolled his hips back onto the bushman's quivering ones.

"Fill me" he breathed.

And that was all Sniper needed to hear.

Fingers dug into the runner's sides, and the Sniper snapped his hips up to meet the Scout's violently. Scout was incredibly loud in his vocalisations now that the belt was out of the way, and Sniper drank in every high pitched moan, whining groan, and pleading whimper that fell candid from his lips. He was no better; roaring and snarling between thrusts, taking to muffling himself in the exposed skin of the Scout's throat and jaw, biting, sucking and mouthing his way up the marked, bloody pane of tanned skin. Scout keened, clenching around the marksman's length with every pass he made over bleeding bites. Sniper answered him with near breathless growls and such an intense stare that he could feel the runner's skin hum under the attention.

Sniper wanted to ruin him, thoroughly and violently; he wanted to make sure those that did see the elusive Scout, knew exactly who he belonged to.

"Mine" he growled into salty skin, rotted teeth twisting and splitting tender flesh beneath their assault. The runner's stuttering breath was humid in his greasy hair, and the threat of vicious canines scraping against his temple was enough to make the marksman groan into the Scout's neck. He tasted blood on his lips, smelled the coppery tang in the air as he fucked violently up into the moaning Scout, biting down brutally onto his exposed clavicle. The runner's head snapped back and he howled in delight, shifting his weight back and bracing himself with bound hands on the Australian's chest as he met erratic thrusts with rolls of his own hips.

A fire was roiling in the Sniper's gut, and he knew he wasn't going to last long at this rate; the smell, the sounds, the tastes.... All his senses were thrown into overdrive, and with hooded eyes sparing a glance up at the drooling Scout, bruising bite marks marring his throat, the bushman snapped.

Scout yelped in surprise as he was thrown to the side, but the Australian wasted no time in delving back into that tight little ass of his with his forehead to the runner's, teeth bared in a feral smile that dared the Scout to challenge him again. Green met red, and Sniper knew that when Scout flicked his eyes away slowly, he was only conceding temporarily. With red eyes crinkling in amusement at the runner's docile surrender, he slammed his hips forward, jolting the runner back through the mud and licking into his mouth, shivering at the whine that passed between them.

"You're gonna breed for me nice and proper, wife. You're gonna carry like the fuckin' bitch you are" he growled into the runner's lips, rolling his hips sinfully slow in a vain attempt to stave off the inevitable. A hand came down to press on the Scout's taut abdomen, already visualising the soft, pillowy fat that would bloom there when his wife carried for him. He loved the Engineer and how soft the man was, and he couldn't wait for the Scout to be the same.

"Gonna get nice n soft" the Sniper crooned, delighting in the shiver he pulled from the runner. Green eyes stared up at him, pupils blown wide and lips curled back over imposing teeth in a snarl that the Australian would have almost mistaken for pain, if not for the thoroughly wrecked expression he wore. And with one final thrust, he came undone.

Sniper howled and sank teeth into the Scout's brutalised neck, slapping his hips flush with the runner's ass as his entire body coiled and drew tight, his orgasm knocking the wind from his lungs. The runner roared his pain out into the cloudy sky, the sound so loud to the Australian's ears, that he clapped a hand over his mouth and gnawed on bloody skin. Scout arched up into him with a needy whine muffled by a muddy palm; he could feel the Sniper twitching inside him and feel his cum scalding through his insides like liquid fire - it was unfair that such a lewd feeling made him want so much more than he felt the Sniper could ever provide.

With a sated purr into the Scout's skin, Sniper pulled out with a slick pop and a breathy moan, sitting back on his haunches in the muddy grass and leaning back to fetch his rifle. Scout watched him through hooded eyes all the while, green visuals following the flick of his tongue out over bloody lips and coming to rest on the glinting gun barrel. Red eyes regarded him quietly for a moment and a hand pet Scout's exposed abdomen, skipping over his achingly hard cock and pushing two fingers into his cum-slick ass, curling them cruelly and making the Scout writhe in the mud with a breathless moan.

Sniper leaned his head against the barrel of his gun and made a thoughtful noise at the pretty sight.

"I love breeding whores like you" he murmured albeit breathlessly "you're so damn willing to get filled that ya don't care what fucks ya" the marksman said with a chuckle, twisting his fingers and watching as Scout arched onto them with a whimper, his thighs quivering "lucky for you, I got just the thing mate"

The freezing, mud covered barrel of the rifle slapped down onto the Scout's chest, and he yelped at the sudden cold that seeped through his thin shirt and exposed skin. Sniper raised an eyebrow almost mockingly at the incredulous expression the Scout wore.

"Y'know... I watch people for me job right? I like to think I'm pretty good at seeing what people want, wife"

"What do you know about anythin'" Scout challenged hoarsely, a spark igniting in his eyes behind the haze of lust that shrouded them. Sniper clicked his tongue and grinned down at the runner.

"Well mate, I know you just love the sound of being bred like the filthy cockslut ya are, n the feeling of someone filling ya to the brim" Scout moaned and tipped his head back at a punctuating cruel twist of Sniper's fingers "you get off on it, being mounted like a bitch in heat and fucked straight into the floor, don't ya?"

"Fuckin'... Get on with it!" the Scout grit out, his eyes screwed shut and teeth clenched in an effort to hold back an embarrassing whine from clawing up his throat.

"Nah mate I'm not done yet - do you know why?" and just to drive the Scout mad, the marksman stalled. His fingers curled back on themselves and Sniper was rewarded with the Scout writhing in frustration, hips bucking in a vain attempt to fuck himself on them. Sniper smiled crookedly at the runner's needy moan.

"Why?" he snapped out eventually, his breath hitching as the rifle on his chest dragged smoothly down his abdomen.

"Because I noticed you like my gun, n I guess I can see why - it's long, it's hard and it can probably reach further than I ever could" Scout snarled and Sniper drank in the frustrated, pleading expression that crossed his face. The marksman pulled his gun back and shrugged it onto his shoulder, shooting his hand out to grab the belt looped around his neck, lowering himself so that Scout was forced to stare up at him when he pulled on it. The Australian grinned.

"You're gonna fuck yourself on my rifle wife, and you ain't gonna touch yourself while ya do it."

Before the Scout could protest, Sniper had flipped him over and grabbed his crotch in a painfully hard grip, drawing a stuttered groan from him as he lifted the runner's hips up, adjusting him to the height he wanted. Blood pooled in the Scout's mouth, his bottom lip split from a rather painful, sound muffling bite - the last thing he wanted was to let the Australian know how much his manhandling was effecting him. Sniper let his flushed cock go, and instead smacked at the runner's thighs with a gloved hand, patiently waiting until he'd spread his legs enough for his liking.

The cold press of the rifle to his lower back wasn't entirely unexpected, but it still made the Scout jump at the chill it held. He shivered, feeling the wide barrel slip down between his cheeks tantalisingly slowly, down to press against his balls and back up again. It was freezing, and Scout whimpered when the metal finally brushed over his slick asshole, the Sniper behind him gripping his hip and wrenching a scream from the runner as he punched the first few inches into him without warning.

Cold, god it was so cold. Scout could feel muscles cramping under the sudden frigid intrusion, and he hissed out between clenched teeth in an effort to relax himself, tears collecting on his dark lashes. Arching his back uncomfortably, Scout glanced over his shoulder with watery eyes and was met with dark red visuals staring down at the lewd sight of his ass spread around his gun, only flicking back up when he noticed he was being watched. Several beats of silence passed before the marksman broke the silence with narrowed eyes.

"Well go on then, fuck yourself on it" the Sniper growled, finger tracing the trigger guard under studious green eyes. Scout froze; the rifle was still loaded wasn't it? "I don't have all bloody day, n me finger's got a bit of an itch y'see" he didn't exactly want to die from a bullet shot up his ass, so with his pride swallowed Scout did as he was ordered.

Sniper got an incredible view from behind the runner; he was propped up on his knees with his thighs spread nice and wide, and the Australian was able to simply watch as the barrel of his rifle vanished again and again into his slick hole. The best part though, was seeing how Scout's legs twitched and quivered with every searching rock of his hips; Sniper knew exactly what he was trying to aim for, and with narrowed red eyes, he shifted the stock higher just as the runner rocked his hips backwards.

Scout's loud, pleading scream was music to his ears.

He'd long since given up trying to keep eye contact with the marksman, and instead focused on fucking himself back onto the rifle. And Sniper let him do so with vigour; for every pass the smoothed off end made over the Scout's prostate, the marksman was rewarded with high pitched whines and sobs. Scarlet eyes devoured the sight of his cum slicking along the barrel of the rifle, oozing down the Scout's trembling thighs for every desperate rock of his hips, for every wanton moan that slipped through clenched teeth. He was so close, the tremors in his thighs giving him away along with ragged breaths that shook his entire body. And with a cruel glint in his eyes, Sniper rammed his gun forward.

Scout's orgasm was certainly something; he'd done as he was told and forgone touching himself in favour of fucking himself on the rifle, and Sniper drank in the way all of his breath seemed to rush out of his body in a whispered scream. His body buckled under the intense pleasure, and with shaking arms unable to support his sudden deadweight, his front half collapsed into the muck, both mud and his own cum splattering on his flushed face.

Sniper pulled his rifle out with a sickening squelch, and made a thoughtful noise at the tinge of red that coated the barrel. It wasn't entirely unexpected really, but it was going to make the Engineer retch when he went to see if his weapons were being maintained. Good thing it was still drizzling, he supposed. The marksman straightened up from his crouch, and nudged the back of Scout's thigh with a boot.

He got an exhausted whine in response.

So he kicked harder, making the Scout topple over into the muck in a pile of boneless limbs.

"On your knees" he ordered, voice low and his rifle slung over his shoulder. Scout's legs shook, and all the joints in his body seemed to have rust gnawing at them, making his movements stiff and creaky - it was a stark contrast to the almost feline grace Sniper had seen up on the hill. Green eyes stared up at him, pupils still dark and an almost dazed expression on his filthy face.

Scout - to his credit - had a quick reaction time after such an ordeal, and managed to screw his eyes shut and flick feline ears backwards as warm piss sprayed him in the face. The smell was so strong compared to before, that the runner physically gagged under the stream, his shoulders shaking as warmth splashed down his face and seeped into his clothes.

Pleased with his work, Sniper tucked himself back into his pants and crouched down to grab the Scout's jaw, shaking his head with a grin and forcing the runner to blink through piss to open his eyes.

"Let's do this again, wife"

* * *

He'd only left for about five minutes to get some sentry parts from his truck. How - in five minutes - the feral Sniper had managed to get into his locked up workshop, was beyond him. There was a trail of mud and blood tracking from the door back through the darkening forest, and Engineer twisted his lips in concern; had he been wounded? With the sentry parts in one arm and the other reaching for the roller door, Engineer paused when he further inspected the grimy trail.

Were those two sets of footprints?

Unease niggled in his gut, and the roller door was easily hefted up with one hand.

But when he stepped inside, the poor Engineer was met with quite the sight.

Sniper was sitting alone on the floor of his workshop skinning what looked to be a deer (that alone was more than enough for him to feel suitably exasperated), and he'd clearly taken to dumping the animal's organs in the bathtub he'd wanted to make use of that particular evening. Sticking out his bottom lip despondently at the amount of hydrogen peroxide he was going to need, Engineer rolled the door back down and dropped the sentry parts onto the floor, gingerly stepping around the working Australian to inspect how much cleaning he'd have to do later.

It looked like Sniper had hung the deer from the roof - if the swinging rope was any sort of indication - and had bled the animal out into the bath as opposed to outside. Engineer clicked his tongue and furrowed his brow, prepared to give the marksman a quick word or two about the ethics of using his tub for such things, when movement from within the organs caught his attention.

Safe to say he didn't expect a pair glowing green eyes to be staring up at him.

Engineer barked in surprise, and fell flat on his ass as the Scout sloshed his way up into a half crouch, grinning at the stunned man with a feral glint in his bright eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sips coffee* 
> 
> Props if you can guess the less obvious kink my Scout has.


End file.
